Laddie, A True Blue Story by Gene Stratton Porter

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18 BESTSELLING CLASSIC NOVELS IN 1913 - 1914: The Inside Of The Cup, V.V.'s Eyes, Laddie: A True Blue Story, The Judgment House, The Heart Of The Hills, The Amateur Gentleman, And Many More…

A Girl of the Limberlost

Suddenly Leon seemed to be forsaken. He surely shrank in sizeand appeared abused.

"When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will takeme up," he announced, and looked as happy over the ending as hehad seemed forlorn at the beginning.

"Thirteen."

"The Lord is on my side; I will not fear; what can man do untome?" inquired Leon of every one in the church. Then he soberlymade a bow and walked to his seat.

Father's voice broke that silence. "Let us kneel in prayer," hesaid.

He took a step forward, knelt, laid his hands on the altar,closed his eyes and turned his face upward.

"Our Heavenly Father, we come before Thee in a trying situation,"he said. "Thy word of truth has been spoken to us by athoughtless boy, whether in a spirit of helpfulness or of jest,Thou knowest. Since we are reasoning creatures, it littlematters in what form Thy truth comes to us; the essential thingis that we soften our hearts for its entrance, and grow in graceby its application. Tears of compassion such as our dear Saviourwept are in our eyes this morning as we plead with Thee to helpus to apply these words to the betterment of this community."

Then father began to pray. If the Lord had been standing sixfeet in front of him, and his life had depended on what he said,he could have prayed no harder. Goodness knows how fathersremember. He began at "Jesus wept" and told about this sinfulworld and why He wept over it; then one at a time he took thoseother twelve verses and hammered them down where they belongedmuch harder than Leon ever could by merely looking at people. After that he prayed all around each one so fervently that thosewho had been hit the very worst cried aloud and said: "Amen!" You wouldn't think any one could do a thing like that; but Iheard and saw my father do it.

When he arose the tears were running down his cheeks, and beforehim stood Leon. He was white as could be, but he spoke outloudly and clearly.

"Please forgive me, sir; I didn't intend to hurt your feelings.Please every one forgive me. I didn't mean to offend any one. It happened through hunting short verses. All the short onesseemed to be like that, and they made me think----"

He got no farther. Father must have been afraid of what he mightsay next. He threw his arms around Leon's shoulders, drew him tothe seat, and with the tears still rolling, he laughed as happilyas you ever heard, and he cried: "`Sweeping through the Gates!' All join in!"

You never heard such singing in your life. That was anotherwonderful thing. My father didn't know the notes. He couldn'tsing; he said so himself. Neither could half the people there,yet all of them were singing at the tops of their voices, and Idon't believe the angels in Heaven could make grander music. Myfather was leading:

"These, these are they, who in the conflict dire----"

You could tell Emanuel Ripley had been in the war from the way heroared:

"Boldly have stood amidst the hottest fire----"

The Widow Fall soared above all of them on the next line; her manwas there, and maybe she was lonely and would have been glad togo to him:

"Jesus now says, `Come up higher----'"

Then my little mother:

"Washed in the blood of the Lamb----"

Like thunder all of them rolled into the chorus:

"Sweepin, through the gates to the New Jerusalem----"

You wouldn't have been left out of that company for anything inall this world, and nothing else ever could make you want to goso badly as to hear every one sing, straight from the heart, agrand old song like that. It is no right way to have to sit andkeep still, and pay other people money to sing about Heaven toyou. No matter if you can't sing by note, if your heart and soulare full, until they are running over, so that you are forced tosing as those people did, whether you can or not, you are sure tobe straight on the way to the Gates.

Before three lines were finished my father was keeping time likea choirmaster, his face all beaming with shining light; motherwas rocking on her toes like a wood robin on a twig at twilight,and at the end of the chorus she cried "Glory!" right out loud,and turned and started down the aisle, shaking hands with everyone, singing as she went. When she reached Betsy Alton she heldher hand and led her down the aisle straight toward Rachel Brown.

When Rachel saw them coming she hurried to meet them, and theyshook hands and were glad to make up as any two people you eversaw. It must have been perfectly dreadful to see a woman everyday for five years, and not to give her a pie, when you felt sureyours were better than she could make, or loan her a new pattern,or tell her first who had a baby, or was married, or dead, oranything like that. It was no wonder they felt glad. Mothercame on, and as she passed me the verses were all finished andevery one began talking and moving. Johnny Dover forgot his neckand shook hands too, and father pronounced the benediction. Healways had to when the minister wasn't there, because he wasordained himself, and you didn't dare pronounce the benedictionunless you were.

Every one began talking again, and wondering if the ministerwouldn't come soon, and some one went out to see. There wasmother standing only a few feet from the Princess, and I thoughtof something. I had seen it done often enough, but I never hadtried it myself, yet I wanted to so badly, there was no time tothink how scared I would be. I took mother's hand and led her afew steps farther and said: "Mother, this is my friend, PamelaPryor."

I believe I did it fairly well. Mother must have been surprised,but she put out her hand.

"I didn't know Miss Pryor and you were acquainted."

"It's only been a little while," I told her. "I met her when Iwas on some business with the Fairies. They know everything andthey told me her father was busy"--I thought she wouldn't want meto tell that he was plain CROSS, where every one could hear, so Isaid "busy" for politeness--"and her mother not very strong, andthat she was a good girl, and dreadfully lonesome. Can't you dosomething, mother?"

"Well, I should think so!" said mother, for her heart was soft asrose leaves. Maybe you won't believe this, but it's quite true. My mother took the Princess' arm and led her to Sally andShelley, and introduced her to all the girls. By the time theminister came and mother went back to her seat, she had forgottenall about the "indisposed" word she disliked, and as you live!she invited the Princess to go home with us to dinner. She stoodtall and straight, her eyes very bright, and her cheeks a littleredder than usual, as she shook hands and said a few pleasantwords that were like from a book, they fitted and were so right. When mother asked her to dinner she said: "Thank you kindly. Ishould be glad to go, but my people expect me at home and theywould be uneasy. Perhaps you would allow me to ride over someweek day and become acquainted?"

Mother said she would be happy to have her, and Shelley said sotoo, but Sally was none too cordial. She had dark curls and pinkcheeks herself, and every one had said she was the prettiest girlin the county before Shelley began to blossom out and show whatshe was going to be. Sally never minded that, but when thePrincess came she was a little taller, and her hair was a triflelonger, and heavier, and blacker, and her eyes were a littlelarger and darker, and where Sally had pink skin and red lips,the Princess was dark as olive, and her lips and cheeks were likered velvet. Anyway, the Princess had said she would come over;mother and Shelley had been decent to her, and Sally hadn't beenexactly insulting. It would be a little more than you couldexpect for her to be wild about the Princess. I believe she waspleased over having been invited to dinner, and as she was astranger she couldn't know that mother had what we called the"invitation habit."

I have seen her ask from fifteen to twenty in one trip down theaisle on Sunday morning. She wanted them to come too; the morewho came, the better she liked it. If the hitching rack andbarnyard were full on Sunday she just beamed. If the sermonpleased her, she invited more. That morning she was feeling sogood she asked seventeen; and as she only had dressed sixchickens--third table, backs and ham, for me as usual; but whenthe prospects were as now, I always managed to coax a fewgizzards from Candace; she didn't dare give me livers--they werecounted. Almost everyone in the church was the happiest thatmorning they had been in years. When the preacher came, hebreathed it from the air, and it worked on him so he preached thebest sermon he ever had, and never knew that Leon made him do it.

Maybe after all it's a good thing to tell people about theirmeanness and give them a stirring up once in a while.

CHAPTER III

Mr. Pryor's Door

"Grief will be joy if on its edge Fall soft that holiest ray, Joy will be grief if no faint pledge Be there of heavenly day."

Have Sally and Peter said anything about getting married yet?"asked my big sister Lucy of mother. Lucy was home on a visit. She was bathing her baby and mother was sewing.

"Not a word!"

"Are they engaged?"

"Sally hasn't mentioned it."

"Well, can't you find out?"

"How could I?" asked mother.

"Why, watch them a little and see how they act when they aretogether. If he kisses her when he leaves, of course they areengaged."

"It would be best to wait until Sally tells me," laughed mother.

I heard this from the back steps. Neither mother nor Lucy knew Iwas there. I went in to see if they would let me take the baby. Of course they wouldn't! Mother took it herself. She wasrocking, and softly singing my Dutch song that I loved best; Ican't spell it, but it sounds like this:

Once I asked mother to sing it in English, and she couldn'tbecause it didn't rhyme that way and the words wouldn't fit thenotes; it was just, "Trot, trot, trot, a boy rode a colt. Thecolt sprang aside; down went the boy in the dirt."

Really, it was a very nice baby; I only said that because Iwanted to hold it, and mother wouldn't give it up. I tried tocoax May to the dam snake hunting, but she couldn't go, so I hadto amuse myself. I had a doll, but I never played with it exceptwhen I was dressed up on Sunday. Anyway, what's the use of adoll when there's a live baby in the house? I didn't care muchfor my playhouse since I had seen one so much finer that Laddiehad made for the Princess. Of course I knew moss wouldn't takeroot in our orchard as it did in the woods, neither would willowcuttings or the red flowers. Finally, I decided to go hunting. I went into the garden and gathered every ripe touch-me-not pod Icould find, and all the portulaca. Then I stripped the tigerlilies of each little black ball at the bases of the leaves, andtook all the four o'clock seed there was. Then I got my biggestalder popgun and started up the road toward Sarah Hood's.

I was going along singing a little verse; it wasn't Dutch either;the old baby could have that if it wanted it. Soon as I got fromsight of the house I made a powderhorn of a curled leaf, loadedmy gun with portulaca powder, rammed in a tiger lily bullet, laidthe weapon across my shoulder, and stepped high and lightly asLaddie does when he's in the Big Woods hunting for squirrel. Itmust have been my own singing--I am rather good at hearingthings, but I never noticed a sound that time, until a voice likea rusty saw said: "Good morning, Nimrod!"

I sprang from the soft dust and landed among the dog fennel of afence corner, in a flying leap. Then I looked. It was thePrincess' father, tall, and gray, and grim, riding a big blackhorse that seemed as if it had been curried with the fine comband brushed with the grease rag.

"Good morning!" I said when I could speak.

"Am I correct in the surmise that you are on the chase with apopgun?" he asked politely.

"Yes sir," I answered, getting my breath the best I could.

It came easier after I noticed he didn't seem to be angry aboutanything.

"Where is your hunting ground, and what game are you after?" heasked gravely.

"You can see the great African jungle over there. I am going tohunt for lions and tigers."

You always must answer politely any one who speaks to you; andyou get soundly thrashed, at least at our house, if you don't bepolitest of all to an older person especially with white hair. Father is extremely particular about white hair. It is a "crownof glory," when it is found in the way of the Lord. Mahlon Pryorhad enough crown of glory for three men, but maybe his wasn'texactly glory, because he wasn't in the way of the Lord. He wasin a way of his own. He must have had much confidence inhimself. At our house we would rather trust in the Lord. I onlytold him about the lions and tigers because he asked me, and thatwas the way I played. But you should have heard him laugh. Youwouldn't have supposed to see him that he could.

"Umph!" he said at last. "I am a little curious about yourammunition. Just how to you bring down your prey?"

"I use portulaca powder and tiger lily bullets on the tigers, andfour o'clocks on the lions," I said.

You could have heard him a mile, dried up as he was.

"I used to wear a red coat and ride to the hounds fox hunting,"he said. "It's great sport. Won't you take me with you to thejungle?"

I didn't want him in the least, but if any one older asks rightout to go with you, what can you do? I am going to tell severalthings you won't believe, and this is one of them: He got offhis horse, tied it to the fence, and climbed over after me. Hewent on asking questions and of course I had to tell him. Mostof what he wanted to know, his people should have taught himbefore he was ten years old, but father says they do thingsdifferently in England.

"There doesn't seem to be many trees in the jungle."

"Well, there's one, and it's about the most important on ourland," I told him. "Father wouldn't cut it down for a farm. Yousee that little dark bag nearly as big as your fist, swinging outthere on that limb? Well, every spring one of these birds,yellow as orange peel, with velvet black wings, weaves a nestlike that, and over on that big branch, high up, one just asbright red as the other is yellow, and the same black wings,builds a cradle for his babies. Father says a red bird and ayellow one keeping house in the same tree is the biggest thingthat ever happened in our family. They come every year and thatis their tree. I believe father would shoot any one who drovethem away."

"Your father is a gunner also?" he asked, and I thought he waslaughing to himself.

"He's enough of a gunner to bring mother in a wagon fromPennsylvania all the way here, and he kept wolves, bears,Indians, and Gypsies from her, and shot things for food. Yessir, my father can shoot if he wants to, better than any of ourfamily except Laddie."

"And does Laddie shoot well?"

"Laddie does everything well," I answered proudly. "He won't tryto do anything at all, until he practises so he can do it well."

Mr. Mahlon Pryor sat on the bank of our Little Creek, took offhis hat and shook back his hair as if the wind felt good on hisforehead. I fished Dick Oglesby from the ammunition in my apronpocket, and held him toward the cross old man, and he wasn'tcross at all. It's funny how you come to get such wrong ideasabout people.

"My big married sister who lives in Westchester sent him to melast Christmas," I explained. "I have another doll, great big,with a Scotch plaid dress made from pieces of mine, but I onlyplay with her on Sunday when I dare not do much else. I likeDick the best because he fits my apron pocket. Father wanted meto change his name and call him Oliver P. Morton, after a friendof his, but I told him this doll had to be called by the name hecame with, and if he wanted me to have one named for his friend,to get it, and I'd play with it."

"What did he do?"

"He didn't want one named Morton that much."

Mr. Pryor took Dick Oglesby in his fingers and looked at hiscurly black hair and blue eyes, his chubby outstretched arms,like a baby when it wants you to take it, and his plump littlefeet and the white shirt with red stripes all a piece of him ashe was made, and said: "The honourable governor of our sisterstate seems a little weighty; I am at a loss to understand how heswims."

"It's a new way," I said. "He just stands still and the waterswims around him. It's very easy for him."

Then I carried Dick to the water, waded in and stood him againsta stone. Something funny happened instantly. It always did. Ifound it out one day when I got some apple butter on the governorgiving him a bite of my bread, and put him in the wash bowl tosoak. He was two and a half inches tall; but the minute youstood him in water he went down to about half that height andspread out to twice his size around. You should have heard Mr.Pryor.

"If you will lie on the bank and watch you'll have more to laughat than that," I promised.

He lay down and never paid the least attention to his clothes. Pretty soon a little chub fish came swimming around to makefriends with Governor Oglesby, and then a shiner and some morechub. They nibbled at his hands and toes, and then went flashingaway, and from under the stone came backing a big crayfish andseized the governor by the leg and started dragging him, so I hadto jump in and stop it. I took a shot at the crayfish with thetiger ammunition and then loaded for lions.

We went on until the marsh became a thicket of cattails,bulrushes, willow bushes, and blue flags; then I found a pathwhere the lions left the jungle, hid Mr. Pryor and told him hemust be very still or they wouldn't come. At last I heard one. I touched Mr. Pryor's sleeve to warn him to keep his eyes on thetrail. Pretty soon the lion came in sight. Really it was only alittle gray rabbit hopping along, but when it was opposite us, Ipinged it in the side, it jumped up and turned a somersault withsurprise, and squealed a funny little squeal,--well, I wonderedif Mr. Pryor's people didn't hear him, and think he had gonecrazy as Paddy Ryan. I never did hear any one laugh so. Ithought if he enjoyed it like that, I'd let him shoot one. I doMay sometimes; so we went to another place I knew where there wasa tiger's den, and I loaded with tiger lily bullets, gave him thegun and showed him where to aim. After we had waited a long timeout came a muskrat, and started for the river. I looked to seewhy Mr. Pryor didn't shoot, and there he was gazing at it as if asnake had charmed him; his hands shaking a little, his cheeksalmost red, his eyes very bright.

"Shoot!" I whispered. "It won't stay all day!"

He forgot how to push the ramrod like I showed him, so he reachedout and tried to hit it with the gun.

"Don't do that!" I said.

"But it's getting away! It's getting away!" he cried.

"Well, what if it is?" I asked, half provoked. "Do you suppose Ireally would hurt a poor little muskrat? Maybe it has six hungrybabies in its home."

"Oh THAT way," he said, but he kept looking at it, so he made methink if I hadn't been there, he would have thrown a stone or hitit with a stick. It is perfectly wonderful about how some mencan't get along without killing things, such little bits ofhelpless creatures too. I thought he'd better be got from thejungle, so I invited him to see the place at the foot of the hillbelow our orchard where some men thought they had discovered goldbefore the war. They had been to California in '49, and althoughthey didn't come home with millions, or anything else except sickand tired, they thought they had learned enough about gold toknow it when they saw it.

I told him about it and he was interested and anxious to see theplace. If there had been a shovel, I am quite sure he would havegone to digging. He kept poking around with his boot toe, and hesaid maybe the yokels didn't look good.

He said our meadow was a beautiful place, and when he praised thecreek I told him about the wild ducks, and he laughed again. Hedidn't seem to be the same man when we went back to the road. Ipulled some sweet marsh grass and gave his horse bites, so Mr.Pryor asked if I liked animals. I said I loved horses, Laddie'sbest of all. He asked about it and I told him.

"Well, if the rest of them will hurry up and marry off, so theexpenses won't be so heavy, maybe I can."

"How many of you are there?" he asked.

"Only twelve," I said.

He looked down the road at our house.

"Do you mean to tell me you have twelve children there?" heinquired.

"Oh no!" I answered. "Some of the big boys have gone intobusiness in the cities around, and some of the girls are married.

Mother says she has only to show her girls in the cities to havethem snapped up like hot cakes."

"I fancy that is the truth," he said. "I've passed the one whorides the little black pony and she is a picture. A fine,healthy, sensible-appearing young woman!"

"I don't think she's as pretty as your girl," I said.

"Perhaps I don't either," he replied, smiling at me.

Then he mounted his horse.

"I don't remember that I ever have passed that house," he said,"without hearing some one singing. Does it go on all the time?"

"Yes, unless mother is sick."

"And what is it all about?"

"Oh just joy! Gladness that we are alive, that we have things todo that we like, and praising the Lord."

"Umph!" said Mr. Pryor.

"It's just letting out what our hearts are full of," I told him. "Don't you know that song:

"`Tis the old time religion And you cannot keep it still?'"

He shook his head.

"It's an awful nice song," I explained. "After it sings aboutall the other things religion is good for, there is one line thatsays: `IT'S GOOD FOR THOSE IN TROUBLE.'"

I looked at him straight and hard, but he only turned white andseemed sick.

"So?" said Mr. Pryor. "Well, thank you for the most interestingmorning I've had this side England. I should be delighted if youwould come and hunt lions in my woods with me some time."

"Oh, do you open the door to children?"

"Certainly we open the door to children," he said, and as I live,he looked so sad I couldn't help thinking he was sorry to closeit against any one. A mystery is the dreadfulest thing.

"Then if children don't matter, maybe I can come lion-huntingsome time with the Princess, after she has made the visit at ourhouse she said she would."

"Indeed! I hadn't been informed that my daughter contemplatedvisiting your house," he said. "When was it arranged?"

"My mother invited her last Sunday."

I didn't like the way he said: "O-o-o-h!" Some way it seemedinsulting to my mother.

"She did it to please me," I said. "There was a Fairy Princesstold me the other day that your girl felt like a stranger, andthat to be a stranger was the hardest thing in all the world. She sat a little way from the others, and she looked so lonely. I pulled my mother's sleeve and led her to your girl and madethem shake hands, and then mother HAD to ask her to come todinner with us. She always invites every one she meets comingdown the aisle; she couldn't help asking your girl, too. Shesaid she was expected at home, but she'd come some day and getacquainted. She needn't if you object. My mother only asked herbecause she thought she was lonely, and maybe she wanted tocome."

He sat there staring straight ahead and he seemed to grow whiter,and older, and colder every minute.

"Possibly she is lonely," he said at last. "This isn't much likethe life she left. Perhaps she does feel herself a stranger. Itwas very kind of your mother to invite her. If she wants tocome, I shall make no objections."

"No, but my father will," I said.

He straightened up as if something had hit him."Why will he object?"

"On account of what you said about God at our house," I told him."And then, too, father's people were from England, and he saysreal Englishmen have their doors wide open, and welcome peoplewho offer friendliness."

Mr. Pryor hit his horse an awful blow. It reared and went racingup the road until I thought it was running away. I could see Ihad made him angry enough to burst. Mother always tells me notto repeat things; but I'm not smart enough to know what to say,so I don't see what is left but to tell what mother, or father,or Laddie says when grown people ask me questions.

I went home, but every one was too busy even to look at me, so Itook Bobby under my arm, hunted father, and told him all aboutthe morning. I wondered what he would think. I never found out.

He wouldn't say anything, so Bobby and I went across the lane,and climbed the gate into the orchard to see if Hezekiah werethere and wanted to fight. He hadn't time to fight Bobby becausehe was busy chasing every wild jay from our orchard. By the timehe got that done, he was tired, so he came hopping along onbranches above us as Bobby and I went down the west fence besidethe lane.

If I had been compelled to choose the side of our orchard I likedbest, I don't know which I would have selected. The west side--that is, the one behind the dooryard--was running over withinteresting things. Two gates opened into it, one from near eachcorner of the yard. Between these there was quite a wide levelspace, where mother fed the big chickens and kept the hens incoops with little ones. She had to have them close enough thatthe big hawks were afraid to come to earth, or they would takemore chickens than they could pay for, by cleaning rabbits,snakes, and mice from the fields. Then came a double row ofprize peach trees; rare fruit that mother canned to take tocounty fairs. One bore big, white freestones, and around theseed they were pink as a rose. One was a white cling, and onewas yellow. There was a yellow freestone as big as a young sun,and as golden, and the queerest of all was a cling purple as abeet.

Sometimes father read about the hairs of the head being numbered,because we were so precious in the sight of the Almighty. Motherwas just as particular with her purple tree; every peach on itwas counted, and if we found one on the ground, we had to carryit to her, because it MIGHT be sound enough to can or spice for afair, or she had promised the seed to some one halfway across thestate. At each end of the peach row was an enormous big peartree; not far from one the chicken house stood on the path to thebarn, and beside the other the smoke house with the dog kennel ayard away. Father said there was a distinct relationship betweena smoke house and a dog kennel, and bulldogs were best. Just atpresent we were out of bulldogs, but Jones, Jenkins and Co. couldmake as much noise as any dog you ever heard. On the left grewthe plum trees all the way to the south fence, and I think therewas one of every kind in the fruit catalogues. Father spenthours pruning, grafting, and fertilizing them. He said theyrequired twice as much work as peaches.

Around the other sides of the orchard were two rows of peachtrees of every variety; but one cling on the north was just alittle the best of any, and we might eat all we wanted from anytree we liked, after father tested them and said: "Peaches areripe!" In the middle were the apple; selected trees, planted,trimmed, and cultivated like human beings. The apples were sobig and fine they were picked by hand, wrapped in paper, packedin barrels, and all we could not use at home went to J. B. Whitein Fort Wayne for the biggest fruit house in the state. My! butfather was proud! He always packed especially fine ones for Mr.White's family. He said he liked him, because he was a realsandy Scotchman, who knew when an apple was right, and wasn'tafraid to say so.

On the south side of the orchard there was the earliest Juneapple tree. The apples were small, bright red with yellowstripes, crisp, juicy and sweet enough to be just right. Thetree was very large, and so heavy it leaned far to the northeast.

This sounds like make-believe, but it's gospel truth. Almost twofeet from the ground there was a big round growth, the size of ahash bowl. The tree must have been hurt when very small and theplace enlarged with the trunk. Now it made a grand step. If youunderstood that no one could keep from running the last few rodsfrom the tree, then figured on the help to be had from this step,you could see how we went up it like squirrels. All the bark onthe south side was worn away and the trunk was smooth and shiny. The birds loved to nest among the branches, and under the peachtree in the fence corner opposite was a big bed of my mother'sfavourite wild flowers, blue-eyed Marys. They had dainty stemsfrom six to eight inches high and delicate heads of bloom made upof little flowers, two petals up, blue, two turning down, white. Perhaps you don't know about anything prettier than that. Therewere maiden-hair ferns among them too! and the biggest lichensyou ever saw on the fence, while in the hollow of a rotten rail alittle chippy bird always built a hair nest. She got the hairsat our barn, for most of them were gray from our carriage horses,Ned and Jo. All down that side of the orchard the fence cornerswere filled with long grass and wild flowers, a few alder bushesleft to furnish berries for the birds, and wild roses for us, tokeep their beauty impressed on us, father said.

The east end ran along the brow of a hill so steep we coasteddown it on the big meat board all winter. The board was sixinches thick, two and a half feet wide, and six long. Fathersaid slipping over ice and snow gave it the good scouring itneeded, and it was thick enough to last all our lives, so wemight play with it as we pleased. At least seven of us could goskimming down that hill and halfway across the meadow on it. Inthe very place we slid across, in summer lay the cowslip bed. The world is full of beautiful spots, but I doubt if any of themever were prettier than that. Father called it swale. We didn'tsink deep, but all summer there was water standing there. Thegrass was long and very sweet, there were ferns and a few calamusflowers, and there must have been an acre of cowslips--cowslipswith big-veined, heartshaped, green leaves, and large pale goldflowers. I used to sit on the top rail of that orchard fence andlook down at them, and try to figure out what God was thinkingwhen He created them, and I wished that I might have been where Icould watch His face as He worked.

Halfway across the east side was a gully where Leon and I foundthe Underground Station, and from any place along the north youlooked, you saw the Little Creek and the marsh. At the same timethe cowslips were most golden, the marsh was blue with flags,pink with smart weed, white and yellow with dodder, yellow withmarsh buttercups having ragged frosty leaves, while the yellowand the red birds flashed above it, the red crying, "Chip,""Chip," in short, sharp notes, the yellow spilling music all overthe marsh while on wing.

It would take a whole book to describe the butterflies; once in awhile you scared up a big, wonderful moth, large as a sparrow;and the orchard was alive with doves, thrushes, catbirds,bluebirds, vireos, and orioles. When you climbed the fence, or atree, and kept quiet, and heard the music and studied thepictures, it made you feel as if you had to put it into words. Ioften had meeting all by myself, unless Bobby and Hezekiah werealong, and I tried to tell God what I thought about things. Probably He was so busy making more birds and flowers for otherworlds, He never heard me; but I didn't say anythingdisrespectful at all, so it made no difference if He did listen. It just seemed as if I must tell what I thought, and I feltbetter, not so full and restless after I had finished.

All of us were alike about that. At that minute I knew motherwas humming, as she did a dozen times a day:

"I think when I read that sweet story of old, When Jesus was here among men How He called little children as lambs to His fold, I should like to have been with Him then."

Lucy would be rocking her baby and singing, "Hush, my dear, liestill and slumber." Candace's favourite she made up about herman who had been killed in the war, when they had been marriedonly six weeks, which hadn't given her time to grow tired of himif he hadn't been "all her fancy painted." She arranged thewords like "Ben Battle was a soldier bold," and she sang them tosuit herself, and cried every single minute:

"They wrapped him in his uniform, They laid him in the tomb, My aching heart I thought 'twould break, But such was my sad doom."

Candace just loved that song. She sang it all the time. Leonsaid our pie always tasted salty from her tears, and he'd take abite and smile at her sweetly and say: "How UNIFORM you get yourpie, Candace!"

May's favourite was "Joy Bells." Father would be whispering overto himself the speech he was preparing to make at the nextprayer-meeting. We never could learn his speeches, because heread and studied so much it kept his head so full, he made a newone every time. You could hear Laddie's deep bass booming the"Bedouin Love Song" for a mile; this minute it came rollingacross the corn:

"Open the door of thy heart, And open thy chamber door, And my kisses shall teach thy lips The love that shall fade no more Till the sun grows cold, And the Stars are old, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold!"

I don't know how the Princess stood it. If he had been singingthat song where I could hear it and I had known it was about me,as she must have known he meant her, I couldn't have kept my armsfrom around his neck. Over in the barn Leon was singing:

"A life on the ocean wave, A home on the rolling deep, Where codfish waggle their tails 'Mid tadpoles two feet deep."

The minute he finished, he would begin reciting "Marco Bozzaris,"and you could be sure that he would reach the last line only tocommence on the speech of "Logan, Chief of the Mingoes," or anyone of the fifty others. He could make your hair stand a littlestraighter than any one else; the best teachers we ever had, oreven Laddie, couldn't make you shivery and creepy as he could. Because all of us kept going like that every day, people couldn'tpass without hearing, so THAT was what Mr. Pryor meant.

I had a pulpit in the southeast corner of the orchard. I likedthat place best of all because from it you could see two sides atonce. The very first little, old log cabin that had been on ourland, the one my father and mother moved into, had stood in thatcorner. It was all gone now; but a flowerbed of tiny, purpleiris, not so tall as the grass, spread there, and some stripedgrass in the shadiest places, and among the flowers a larkbrooded every spring. In the fence corner mother's big whiteturkey hen always nested. To protect her from rain and too hotsun, father had slipped some boards between the rails about threefeet from the ground. After the turkey left, that was my pulpit.

I stood there and used the top of the fence for my railing.

The little flags and all the orchard and birds were behind me; onone hand was the broad, grassy meadow with the creek running soswiftly, I could hear it, and the breath of the cowslips came upthe hill. Straight in front was the lane running down from thebarn, crossing the creek and spreading into the woods pasture,where the water ran wider and yet swifter, big forest trees grew,and bushes of berries, pawpaws, willow, everything ever found inan Indiana thicket; grass under foot, and many wild flowers andferns wherever the cattle and horses didn't trample them, andbigger, wilder birds, many having names I didn't know. On theleft, across the lane, was a large cornfield, with trees here andthere, and down the valley I could see the Big Creek coming fromthe west, the Big Hill with the church on top, and always thewhite gravestones around it. Always too there was the skyoverhead, often with clouds banked until you felt if you onlycould reach them, you could climb straight to the gates thatfather was so fond of singing about sweeping through. Mostlythere was a big hawk or a turkey buzzard hanging among them, justto show us that we were not so much, and that we couldn't shootthem, unless they chose to come down and give us a chance.

I set Bobby and Hezekiah on the fence and stood between them. "We will open service this morning by singing the thirty-fifthhymn," I said. "Sister Dover, will you pitch the tune?"

Then I made my voice high and squeally like hers and sang:

"Come ye that love the Lord, And let your joys be known, Join in a song of sweet accord, And thus surround the throne."

I sang all of it and then said: "Brother Hastings, will you leadus in prayer?"

Then I knelt down, and prayed Brother Hastings' prayer. I couldhave repeated any one of a dozen of the prayers the men of ourchurch prayed, but I liked Brother Hastings' best, because it hadthe biggest words in it. I loved words that filled your mouth,and sounded as if you were used to books. It began sort of sing-songy and measured in stops, like a poetry piece:

Sometimes from there on it changed a little, but it always beganand ended exactly the same way. Father said Brother Hastings waspowerful in prayer, but he did wish he'd leave out the "worms ofthe dust." He said we were not "worms of the dust"; we werereasoning, progressive, inventive men and women. He said a wormwould never be anything except a worm, but we could study andimprove ourselves, help others, make great machines, paintpictures, write books, and go to an extent that must almost amazethe Almighty Himself. He said that if Brother Hastings had donemore plowing in his time, and had a little closer acquaintancewith worms, he wouldn't be so ready to call himself and every oneelse a worm. Now if you are talking about cutworms or fishworms,father is right. But there is that place where--"Charles hisheel had raised, upon the humble worm to tread," and the wormlifted up its voice and spake thus to Charles:

"I know I'm now among the things Uncomely to your sight, But, by and by, on splendid wings, You'll see me high and bright."

Now I'll bet a cent THAT is the kind of worm Brother Hastingssaid we were. I must speak to father about it. I don't want himto be mistaken; and I really think he is about worms. Of coursehe knows the kind that have wings and fly. Brother Hastingsmixed him up by saying "worms of the dust" when he should havesaid worms of the leaves. Those that go into little round casesin earth or spin cocoons on trees always live on leaves, and manyof them rear the head, having large horns, and wave it in amanner far from humble. So father and Brother Hastings were bothpartly right, and partly wrong.

When the prayer came to a close, where every one always said"Amen," I punched Bobby and whispered, "Crow, Bobby, crow!" andhe stood up and brought it out strong, like he always did when Itold him. I had to stop the service to feed him a little wheat,to pay him for crowing; but as no one was there except us, thatdidn't matter. Then Hezekiah crowded over for some, so I had topretend I was Mrs. Daniels feeding her children caraway cake,like she always did in meeting. If I had been the mother ofchildren who couldn't have gone without things to eat in churchI'd have kept them at home. Mrs. Daniels always had the carpetgreasy with cake crumbs wherever she sat, and mother didn't thinkthe Lord liked a dirty church any more than we would have wanteda mussy house. When I had Bobby and Hezekiah settled I took mytext from my head, because I didn't know the meeting feeling wascoming on me when I started, and I had brought no Bible along.

"Blessed are all men, but most blessed are they who hold theirtempers." I had to stroke Bobby a little and pat Hezekiah oncein a while, to keep them from flying down and fighting, butmostly I could give my attention to my sermon.

"We have only to look around us this morning to see that all menare blessed," I said. "The sky is big enough to cover every one.

If the sun gets too hot, there are trees for shade or the cloudscome up for a while. If the earth becomes too dry, it alwaysrains before it is everlastingly too late. There are birdsenough to sing for every one, butterflies enough to go around,and so many flowers we can't always keep the cattle and horsesfrom tramping down and even devouring beautiful ones, like Danielthought the lions would devour him--but they didn't. Wouldn't itbe a good idea, O Lord, for You to shut the cows' mouths and savethe cowslips also; they may not be worth as much as a man, butthey are lots better looking, and they make fine greens. Itdoesn't seem right for cows to eat flowers; but maybe it is asright for them as it is for us. The best way would be for ourcattle to do like that piece about the cow in the meadow exactlythe same as ours:

"`And through it ran a little brook, Where oft the cows would drink, And then lie down among the flowers, That grew upon the brink.'

"You notice, O Lord, the cows did not eat the flowers in thisinstance; they merely rested among them, and goodness knows,that's enough for any cow. They had better done like the nextverse, where it says: "`They like to lie beneath the trees, All shaded by the boughs, Whene'er the noontide heat came on: Sure, they were happy cows!'

"Now, O Lord, this plainly teaches that if cows are happy, menshould be much more so, for like the cows, they have all Thoucanst do for them, and all they can do for themselves, besides. So every man is blessed, because Thy bounty has provided allthese things for him, without money and without price. If somemen are not so blessed as others, it is their own fault, and notYours. You made the earth, and all that is therein, and You madethe men. Of course You had to make men different, so each womancan tell which one belongs to her; but I believe it would havebeen a good idea while You were at it, if You would have made allof them enough alike that they would all work. Perhaps it isn'tpolite of me to ask more of You than You saw fit to do; and then,again, it may be that there are some things impossible, even toYou. If there is anything at all, seems as if making IsaacThomas work would be it. Father says that man would ratherstarve and see his wife and children hungry than to take off hiscoat, roll up his sleeves, and plow corn; so it was good enoughfor him when Leon said, `Go to the ant, thou sluggard,' right athim. So, of course, Isaac is not so blessed as some men, becausehe won't work, and thus he never knows whether he's going to havea big dinner on Sunday, until after some one asks him, because helooks so empty. Mother thinks it isn't fair to feed Isaac andsend him home with his stomach full, while Mandy and the babiesare sick and hungry. But Isaac is some blessed, because he hasreligion and gets real happy, and sings, and shouts, and he'sgoing to Heaven when he dies. He must wish he'd go soon,especially in winter.

"There are men who do not have even this blessing, and to makethings worse, O Lord, they get mad as fire and hit theirhorses, and look like all possessed. The words of my text thismorning apply especially to a man who has all the blessings Thouhast showered and flowered upon men who work, or whose peopleworked and left them so much money they don't need to, and yet asadder face I never saw, or a crosser one. He looks like he wasgoing to hit people, and he does hit his horse an awful crack. It's no way to hit a horse, not even if it balks, because itcan't hit back, and it's a cowardly thing to do. If you rubtheir ears and talk to them, they come quicker, O our HeavenlyFather, and if you hit them just because you are mad, it's abigger sin yet.

"No man is nearly so blessed as he might be who goes aroundlooking killed with grief when he should cheer up, no matter whatails him; and who shuts up his door and says his wife is sickwhen she isn't, and who scowls at every one, when he can be realpleasant if he likes, as some in Divine Presence can testify. Sowe are going to beseech Thee, O Lord, to lay Thy mighty hand uponthe man who got mad this beautiful morning and make him feel Thymight, until he will know for himself and not another, that Youare not a myth. Teach him to have a pleasant countenance, anopen door, and to hold his temper. Help him to come over to ourhouse and be friendly with all his neighbours, and get all theblessings You have provided for every one; but please don't makehim have any more trouble than he has now, for if You do, You'llsurely kill him. Have patience with him, and have mercy on him,O Lord! Let us pray."

That time I prayed myself. I looked into the sky just asstraight and as far as I could see, and if I had any influence atall, I used it then. Right out loud, I just begged the Lord toget after Mr. Pryor and make him behave like other people, andlet the Princess come to our house, and for him to come too;because I liked him heaps when he was lion hunting, and I wantedto go with him again the worst way. I had seen him sail rightover the fences on his big black horse, and when he did it inEngland, wearing a red coat, and the dogs flew over thick aroundhim, it must have looked grand, but it was mighty hard on thefox. I do hope it got away. Anyway, I prayed as hard as Icould, and every time I said the strongest thing I knew, Ipunched Bobby to crow, and he never came out stronger. Then Iwas Sister Dover and started: "Oh come let us gather at thefountain, the fountain that never goes dry."

Just as I was going to pronounce the benediction like father, Iheard something, so I looked around, and there went he and Dr.Fenner. They were going toward the house, and yet, they hadn'tpassed me. I was not scared, because I knew no one was sick. Dr. Fenner always stopped when he passed, if he had a minute, andif he hadn't, mother sent some one to the gate with buttermilkand slices of bread and butter, and jelly an inch thick. When ameal was almost cooked she heaped some on a plate and he ate ashe drove and left the plate next time he passed. Often he was sodead tired, he was asleep in his buggy, and his old gray horsealways stopped at our gate.

I ended with "Amen," because I wanted to know if they had beenlistening; so I climbed the fence, ran down the lane behind thebushes, and hid a minute. Sure enough they had! I suppose I hadbeen so in earnest I hadn't heard a sound, but it's a wonderHezekiah hadn't told me. He was always seeing something to makedanger signals about. He never let me run on a snake, or a hawkget one of the chickens, or Paddy Ryan come too close. I onlywanted to know if they had gone and listened, and then I intendedto run straight back to Bobby and Hezekiah; but they stoppedunder the greening apple tree, and what they said was sointeresting I waited longer than I should, because it's about theworst thing you can do to listen when older people don't know. They were talking about me.

"I can't account for her," said father.

"I can!" said Dr. Fenner. "She is the only child I ever have hadin my practice who managed to reach earth as all children should.During the impressionable stage, no one expected her, so therewas no time spent in worrying, fretting, and discontent. I don'tmean that these things were customary with Ruth. No woman everaccepted motherhood in a more beautiful spirit; but if she wouldhave protested at any time, it would have been then. Instead,she lived happily, naturally, and enjoyed herself as she neverhad before. She was in the fields, the woods, and the gardenconstantly, which accounts for this child's outdoor tendencies. Then you must remember that both of you were at top notchintellectually, and physically, fully matured. She had thebenefit of ripened minds, and at a time when every facultyrecently had been stirred by the excitement and suffering of thewar. Oh, you can account for her easily enough, but I don't knowwhat on earth you are going to do with her. You'll have to gocareful, Paul. I warn you she will not be like the others."

"We realize that. Mother says she doubts if she can ever teachher to sew and become a housewife."

"She isn't cut out for a seamstress or a housewife, Paul. TellRuth not to try to force those things on her. Turn her loose outof doors; give her good books, and leave her alone. You won't bedisappointed in the woman who evolves."

Right there I realized what I was doing, and I turned and ran forthe pulpit with all my might. I could always repeat things, butI couldn't see much sense to the first part of that; the last wasas plain as the nose on your face. Dr. Fenner said they mustn'tforce me to sew, and do housework; and mother didn't mind theAlmighty any better than she did the doctor. There was nothingin this world I disliked so much as being kept indoors, and madeto hem cap and apron strings so particularly that I had to countthe number of threads between every stitch, and in each stitch,so that I got all of them just exactly even. I liked carpet ragsa little better, because I didn't have to be so particular aboutstitches, and I always picked out all the bright, pretty colours.

Mother said she could follow my work all over the floor by thebright spots. Perhaps if I were not to be kept in the house Iwouldn't have to sew any more. That made me so happy I wonderedif I couldn't stretch out my arms and wave them and fly. I saton the pulpit wishing I had feathers. It made me pretty blue tohave to stay on the ground all the time, when I wanted to besailing up among the clouds with the turkey buzzards. It calledto my mind that place in McGuffey's Fifth where it says:

Of course, I never heard a turkey buzzard sing. Laddie said theycouldn't; but that didn't prove it. He said half the members ofour church couldn't sing, but they DID; and when all of them weregoing at the tops of their voices, it was just grand. So maybethe turkey buzzard could sing if it wanted to; seemed as if itshould, if Isaac Thomas could; and anyway, it was the next verseI was thinking most about:

"Oh, could I fly, I'd fly with thee! We'd make with joyful wing, Our annual visit o'er the globe, Companions of the spring."

That was so exciting I thought I'd just try it, so I stood on thetop rail, spread my arms, waved them, and started. I was bumpedin fifty places when I rolled into the cowslip bed at the foot ofthe steep hill, for stones stuck out all over the side of it, andI felt pretty mean as I climbed back to the pulpit.

The only consolation I had was what Dr. Fenner had said. Thatwould be the greatest possible help in managing father or mother.

I was undecided about whether I would go to school, or not. Mustbe perfectly dreadful to dress like for church, and sit still ina stuffy little room, and do your "abs," and "bes," and "bis,"and "bos," all day long. I could spell quite well withoutlooking at a schoolhouse, and read too. I was wondering if Iever would go at all, when I thought of something else. Dr.Fenner had said to give me plenty of good books. I was wild forsome that were already promised me. Well, what would they amountto if I couldn't understand them when I got them? THAT seemed tomake it sure I would be compelled to go to school until I learnedenough to understand what the books contained about birds,flowers, and moths, anyway; and perhaps there would be somehaving Fairies in them. Of course those would be interesting.

I never hated doing anything so badly, in all my life, but Icould see, with no one to tell me, that I had put it off as longas I dared. I would just have to start school when Leon and Maywent in September. Tilly Baher, who lived across the swamp nearSarah Hood, had gone two winters already, and she was only a yearolder, and not half my size. I stood on the pulpit and looked along time in every direction, into the sky the longest of all. It was settled. I must go; I might as well start and have itover. I couldn't look anywhere, right there at home, and not seemore things I didn't know about than I did. When mother showedme in the city, I wouldn't be snapped up like hot cakes; I'd be ablockhead no one would have. It made me so vexed to think I hadto go, I set Hezekiah on my shoulder, took Bobby under my arm,and went to the house. On the way, I made up my mind that Iwould ask again, very politely, to hold the little baby, and ifthe rest of them went and pigged it up straight along, I'd pinchit, if I got a chance.

CHAPTER IV

The Last Day in Eden

"'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before."

Of course the baby was asleep and couldn't be touched; but therewas some excitement, anyway. Father had come from town with aletter from the new school teacher, that said she would expecthim to meet her at the station next Saturday. Mother thought shemight as well get the room ready and let her stay at our house,because we were most convenient, and it would be the best placefor her. She said that every time, and the teacher always stayedwith us. Really it was because father and mother wanted theteacher where they could know as much as possible about what wasgoing on. Sally didn't like having her at all; she said with thewedding coming, the teacher would be a nuisance. Shelley hadfinished our school, and the Groveville high school, and insteadof attending college she was going to Chicago to study music. She was so anxious over her dresses and getting started, shedidn't seem to think much about what was going to happen to us athome; so she didn't care if Miss Amelia stayed at our house. Maysaid it would be best to have the teacher with us, because shecould help us with our lessons at home, and we could get ahead ofthe others. May already had decided that she would be at thehead of her class when she finished school, and every time youwanted her and couldn't find her, if you would look across thefoot of mother's bed, May would be there with a spelling book. Once she had spelled down our school, when Laddie was not there.

Father had met Peter Dover in town, and he had said that he wascoming to see Sally, because he had something of especialimportance to tell her.

"Did he say what it was?" asked Sally.

"Only what I have told you," replied father.

Sally wanted to take the broom and sweep the parlour.

"It's clean as a ribbon," said mother.

"If you go in there, you'll wake the baby," said Lucy.

"Will it kill it if I do?" asked Sally.

"No, but it will make it cross as fire, so it will cry all thetime Peter is here," said Lucy.

"I'll be surprised if it doesn't scream every minute anyway,"said Sally.

"I hope it will," said Lucy. "That will make Peter think a whilebefore he comes so often."

That made Sally so angry she couldn't speak, so she went out andbegan killing chickens. I helped her catch them. They were soused to me they would come right to my feet when I shelled corn.

"I'm going to kill three," said Sally. "I'm going to be sure wehave enough, but don't you tell until their heads are off."

While she was working on them mother came out and asked how manyshe had, so Sally said three. Mother counted us and said thatwasn't enough; there would have to be four at least.

After she was gone Sally looked at me and said: "Well, forland's sake!"

It was so funny she had to laugh, and by the time I caught thefourth one, and began helping pick them, she was over beingprovoked and we had lots of fun.

The minute I saw Peter Dover he made me think of something. Irode his horse to the barn with Leon leading it. There we sawLaddie.

"Guess what!" I cried.

"Never could!" laughed Laddie, giving Peter Dover's horse a slapas it passed him on the way to a stall.

"Four chickens, ham, biscuit, and cake!" I announced.

"Is it a barbecue?" asked Laddie.

"No, the extra one is for the baby," said Leon. "Squally littlerunt, I call it."

"It's a nice baby!" said Laddie.

"What do you know about it?" demanded Leon.

"Well, considering that I started with you, and have brought uptwo others since, I am schooled in all there is to know," saidLaddie.

"Guess what else!" I cried.

"More?" said Laddie. "Out with it! Don't kill me withsuspense."

"Father is going to town Saturday to meet the new teacher and shewill stay at our house as usual."

Leon yelled and fell back in a manger, while Laddie held harnessoil to his nose.

"More!" cried Leon, grabbing the bottle.

"Are you sure?" asked Laddie of me earnestly.

"It's decided. Mother said so," I told him.

"Name of a black cat, why?" demanded Laddie.

"Mother said we were most convenient for the teacher."

"Aren't there enough of us?" asked Leon, straightening upsniffing harness oil as if his life depended on it.

"I'll bet she'll be sixty and a cat," said Leon. "Won't I havefun with her?"

"Maybe so, maybe not!" said Laddie. "You can't always tell, forsure. Remember your Alamo! You were going to have fun with theteacher last year, but she had it with you."

Leon threw the oil bottle at him. Laddie caught it and set it onthe shelf.

"I don't understand," said Leon.

"I do," said Laddie dryly. "THIS is one reason." He hit PeterDover's horse another slap.

"Maybe yes," said Leon.

"Shelley to music school, two."

"Yes," said Leon. "Peter Dovers are the greatest expense, andPeter won't happen but once. Shelley will have at least twoyears in school before it is her turn, and you come next,anyway."

"Shut up!" cried Laddie.

"Thanky! Your orders shall be obeyed gladly."

He laid down the pitchfork, went outside, closed the door, andlatched it. Laddie called to him, but he ran to the house. WhenLaddie and I finished our work, and his, and wanted to go, we hadto climb the stairs and leave through the front door on theembankment.

"The monkey!" said Laddie, but he didn't get mad; he justlaughed.

The minute I stepped into the house and saw the parlour doorclosed, I thought of that "something" again. I walked past it,but couldn't hear anything. Of course mother wanted to know; andshe would be very thankful to me if I could tell her. I went outthe front door, and thought deeply on the situation. The windowswere wide open, but I was far below them and I could only hear asort of murmur. Why can't people speak up loud and plain,anyway? Of course they would sit on the big haircloth sofa. Didn't Leon call it the "sparking bench"? The hemlock tree wouldbe best. I climbed quieter than a cat, for they break bark andmake an awful scratching with their claws sometimes; my bare feetwere soundless. Up and up I went, slowly, for it was dreadfullyrough. They were not on the sofa. I could see plainly throughthe needles. Then I saw the spruce would have been better, forthey were standing in front of the parlour door and Peter had onehand on the knob. His other arm was around my sister Sally. Breathlessly I leaned as far as I could, and watched.

"Father said he'd give me the money to buy a half interest, andfurnish a house nicely, if you said `yes,' Sally," said Peter.

Sally leaned back all pinksome and blushful, and while shelaughed at him she

"Carelessly tossed off a curl That played on her delicate brow."

exactly like Mary Dow in McGuffey's Third.

"Well, what did I SAY?" she asked.

"Come to think of it, you didn't say anything."

Sally's face was all afire with dancing lights, and she laughedthe gayest little laugh.

"Are you so very sure of that, Peter?" she said.

"I'm not sure of anything," said Peter, "except that I am sohappy I could fly."

"Try it, fool!" I said to myself, deep in my throat.

Sally laughed again, and Peter took his other hand from the doorand put that arm around Sally too, and he drew her to him andkissed her, the longest, hardest kiss I ever saw. I let go androlled, tumbled, slid, and scratched down the hemlock tree,dropped from the last branch to the ground, and scampered aroundthe house. I reached the dining-room door when every one wasgathering for supper.

I rushed in to tell all of them what they would be glad to know,and if there didn't stand Peter and Sally! How they ever gotthrough that door, and across the sitting-room before me, I don'tunderstand. Sally made a dive at me, and I was so astonished Iforgot to run, so she caught me. She started for the wood housewith me, and mother followed. Sally turned at the door and shewas the whitest of anything you ever saw.

"This is my affair," she said. "I'll attend to this young lady."

"Very well," said mother, and as I live she turned and left me tomy sad fate, as it says in a story book we have. I wish whenpeople are going to punish me, they'd take a switch and strikerespectably, like mother does. This thing of having some one getall over me, and not having an idea where I'm going to be hit, isthe worst punishment that I ever had. I'd been down the hill andup the hemlock that day, anyway. I'd always been told Sallydidn't want me. She PROVED it right then. Finally she quit,because she was too tired to strike again, so I crept among theshavings on the work bench and went to sleep. I THOUGHT theywould like to know, and that I was going to please them.

Anyway, they found out, for by the time Sally got back Peter hadtold them about the store, and the furnished house, and askedfather for Sally right before all of them, which father said waspretty brave; but Peter knew it was all right or he couldn't havecome like he'd been doing.

After that, you couldn't hear anything at our house but wedding. Sally's share of linen and bedding was all finished long ago. Father took her to Fort Wayne on the cars to buy her wedding,travelling, and working dresses, and her hat, cloak, and linen,like you have when you marry.

It was strange that Sally didn't want mother to go, but she saidthe trip would tire her too much. Mother said it was becauseSally could coax more dresses from father. Anyway, mother toldhim to set a limit and stick to it. She said she knew he hadn'tdone it as she got the first glimpse of Sally's face when theycame back, but the child looked so beautiful and happy she hadn'tthe heart to spoil her pleasure.

The next day a sewing woman came; and all of them were shut up inthe sitting-room, while the sewing machine just whizzed on theworking dresses. Sally said the wedding dress had to be made byhand. She kept the room locked, and every new thing that theymade was laid away on the bed in the parlour bedroom, and none ofus had a peep until everything was finished. It was awfullyexciting, but I wouldn't pretend I cared, because I was huffy ather. I told her I wouldn't kiss her goodbye, and I'd be GLADwhen she was gone.

Sally said the school-ma'am simply had to go to Winters', or someplace else, but mother said possibly a stranger would have someideas, and know some new styles, so Sally then thought maybe theyhad better try it a few days, and she could have her place and becompany when she and Shelley left. Shelley was rather silent andblue, and before long I found her crying, because mother had toldher she couldn't start for Chicago until after the wedding, andthat would make her miss six weeks at the start.

Next day word was sent around that school was to begin the comingMonday; so Saturday afternoon the people who had children largeenough to go sent the biggest of them to clean the schoolhouse. May, Leon, and I went to do our share. Just when there wereabout a bushel of nut shells, and withered apple cores, and inkypaper on the floor, the blackboard half cleaned, and ashestrailed deep between the stove and the window Billy Wilson wasthrowing them from, some one shouted: "There comes Mr. Stantonwith Her."

All of us dropped everything and ran to the south windows. Itell you I was proud of our big white team as it came prancingdown the hill, and the gleaming patent leather trimmings, and thebrass side lamps shining in the sun. Father sat very straight,driving rather fast, as if he would as lief get it over with, andinstead of riding on the back seat, where mother always sat, theteacher was in front beside him, and she seemed to be talkingconstantly. We looked at each other and groaned when fatherstopped at the hitching post and got out. If we had tried to seewhat a dreadful muss we could make, things could have looked noworse. I think father told her to wait in the carriage, but weheard her cry: "Oh Mr. Stanton, let me see the dear children I'mto teach, and where I'm to work."

Hopped is the word. She hopped from the carriage and camehopping after father. She was as tall as a clothes prop andscarcely as fat. There were gray hairs coming on her temples. Her face was sallow and wrinkled, and she had faded, pale-blueeyes. Her dress was like my mother had worn several yearsbefore, in style, and of stiff gray stuff. She made me feel thatno one wanted her at home, and probably that was the reason shehad come so far away.

Every one stood dumb. Mother always went to meet people and Maywas old enough to know it. She went, but she looked exactly asshe does when the wafer bursts and the quinine gets in her mouth,and she doesn't dare spit it out, because it costs five dollars abottle, and it's going to do her good. Father introduced May andsome of the older children, and May helped him with the others,and then he told us to "dig in and work like troopers," and hewould take Miss Pollard on home.

"Oh do let me remain and help the dear children!" she cried.

"We can finish!" we answered in full chorus.

"How lovely of you!" she chirped.

Chirp makes you think of a bird; and in speech and manner MissAmelia Pollard was the most birdlike of any human being I everhave seen. She hopped from the step to the walk, turned to us,her head on one side, playfulness in the air around her, andshook her finger at us.

"Be extremely particular that you leave things immaculate at theconsummation of your labour," she said. "`Remember thatcleanliness is next to Godliness!'"

"Two terms of that!" gasped Leon, sinking on the stove hearth. "Behold Job mourning as close the ashes as he can."

Billy Wilson had the top lid off, so he reached down and got abig handful of ashes and sifted them over Leon. But it's no funto do anything like that to him; he only sank in a more dejectedheap, and moaned: "Send for Bildad and Zophar to comfort me, andmore ashes, please."

"I'm going to get a hundred wads ready for Monday," said JimmyHood. "We can shoot them when we please."

"Bet ten cents you can't hit her," said Billy Wilson. "Thereain't enough of her for a decent mark."

"Let's quit and go home," proposed Leon. "This will look worsethan it does now by Monday night."

Then every one began talking at once. Suddenly May seized thepoker and began pounding on the top of the stove for order.

"We must clean this up," she said. "We might as well finish. Maybe you'll shoot wads and do what you please, and maybe youwon't. Her eyes went around like a cat that smells mice. If shecan spell the language she uses, she is the best we've ever had."

That made us blink, and I never forgot it. Many times afterwardwhile listening to people talk, I wondered if they could spellthe words they used.

"Well, come on, then!" said Leon. He seized the broom and handedit to Billy Wilson, quoting as he did so, "Work, work, my boy, benot afraid"; and he told Silas Shaw as he gave him the mop, to"Look labour boldly in the face!" but he never did a thinghimself, except to keep every one laughing.

So we cleaned up as well as we could, and Leon strutted likeBobby, because he locked the door and carried the key. When wereached home I was sorry I hadn't gone with father, so I couldhave seen mother, Sally, Candace, and Laddie when first they metthe new teacher. The shock showed yet! Miss Amelia had takenoff her smothery woollen dress and put on a black calico, but itwasn't any more cheerful. She didn't know what to do, and youcould see plainly that no one knew what to do with her, so theyunited in sending me to show her the place. I asked her what shewould like most to see, and she said everything was so charmingshe couldn't decide. I thought if she had no more choice thanthat, one place would do as well as another, so I started for theorchard. Quick as we got there, I knew what to do. I led herstraight to our best cling peach tree, told her to climb on thefence so she could reach easily, and eat all she chose. Wedidn't dare shake the tree, because the pigs ran on the otherside of the fence, and they chanked up every peach that fellthere. Those peaches were too good to feed even father's finestBerkshires.

By the time Miss Amelia had eaten nine or ten, she was so happyto think she was there, she quit tilting her head and using bigwords. Of course she couldn't know how I loved to hear them, andmaybe she thought I wouldn't know what they meant, and that theywould be wasted on me. If she had understood how much spellingand defining I'd heard in my life, I guess she might have talkedup as big as she could, and still I'd have got most of it. Whenshe reached the place where she ate more slowly, she began totalk. She must have asked me most a hundred questions. What allour names were, how old we were, if our girls had lots of beaus,and if there were many men in the neighbourhood, and dozens ofthings my mother never asked any one. She always inquired ifpeople were well, if their crops were growing, how much fruitthey had, and how near their quilts were finished.

I told her all about Sally and the wedding, because no one caredwho knew it, after I had been pounded to mince-meat for telling. She asked if Shelley had any beaus, and I said there wasn't anyone who came like Peter, but every man in the neighbourhoodwanted to be her beau. Then she asked about Laddie, and I wastaking no risks, so I said: "I only see him at home. I don'tknow where he goes when he's away. You'll have to ask him."

"Oh, I never would dare," she said. "But he must. He is sohandsome! The girls would just compel him to go to see them."

"Not if he didn't want to go," I said.

"You must never, never tell him I said so, but I do think he isthe handsomest man I ever saw."

"So do I," I said, "and it wouldn't make any difference if I toldhim."

"Then do you mean you're going to tell him my foolish remark?"she giggled.

"No use," I said. "He knows it now. Every time he parts hishair he sees how good looking he is. He doesn't care. He saysthe only thing that counts with a man is to be big, strong,manly, and well educated."

"Is he well educated?"

"Yes, I think so, as far as he's gone," I answered. "Of coursehe will go on being educated every day of his life, same asfather. He says it is all rot about `finishing' your education. You never do. You learn more important things each day, and bythe time you are old enough to die, you have almost enough senseto know how to live comfortably. Pity, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Miss Amelia, "it's an awful pity, but it's the truth.

Is your mother being educated too?"

"Whole family," I said. "We learn all the time, mother most ofany, because father always looks out for her. You see, it takesso much of her time to manage the house, and sew, and knit, anddarn, that she can't study so much as the others; so father readsall the books to her, and tells her about everything he findsout, and so do all of us. Just ask her if you think she doesn'tknow things."

"I wouldn't know what to ask," said Miss Amelia.

"Ask how long it took to make this world, who invented printing,where English was first spoken, why Greeley changed his politics,how to make bluebell perfumery, cut out a dress, or cure a babyof worms. Just ask her!"

Miss Amelia threw a peach stone through a fence crack and hit apig. It was a pretty neat shot.

"I don't need ask any of that," she said scornfully. "I know allof it now."

"All right! What is best for worms?" I asked.

"Jayne's vermifuge," said Miss Amelia.

"Wrong!" I cried. "That's a patent medicine. Tea made from malefern root is best, because there's no morphine in it!"

The supper bell rang and I was glad of it. Peaches are not veryfilling after all, for I couldn't see but that Miss Amelia ate asmuch as any of us. For a few minutes every one was slow inspeaking, then mother asked about cleaning the schoolhouse,Laddie had something to explain to father about corn mould, Sallyand the dressmaker talked about pipings--not a bird--a new way tofold goods to make trimmings, and soon everything was going onthe same as if the new teacher were not there. I noticed thatshe kept her head straight, and was not nearly so glib-tonguedand birdlike before mother and Sally as she had been at theschoolhouse. Maybe that was why father told mother that nightthat the new teacher would bear acquaintance.

Sunday was like every other Sabbath, except that I felt so sadall day I could have cried, but I was not going to do it. Seemedas if I never could put on shoes, and so many clothes Mondaymorning, quite like church, and be shut in a room for hours, totry to learn what was in books, when the world was running overwith things to find out where you could have your feet in water,leaves in your hair, and little living creatures in your hands. In the afternoon Miss Amelia asked Laddie to take her for a walkto see the creek, and the barn, and he couldn't escape.

I suppose our barn was exactly like hundreds of others. It wasbuilt against an embankment so that on one side you could driveright on the threshing floor with big loads of grain. On thesunny side in the lower part were the sheep pens, cattle stalls,and horse mangers. It was always half bursting with overflowinggrain bins and haylofts in the fall; the swallows twittered underthe roof until time to go south for winter, as they sailed fromthe ventilators to their nests plastered against the rafters oreaves. The big swinging doors front and back could be opened tolet the wind blow through in a strong draft. From the east doorsyou could see for miles across the country.

I said our barn was like others, but it was not. There was notanother like it in the whole world. Father, the boys, and thehired men always kept it cleaned and in proper shape every day. The upper floor was as neat as some women's houses. It wasswept, the sun shone in, the winds drifted through, the odours ofdrying hay and grain were heavy, and from the top of the naturallittle hill against which it stood you could see for miles in alldirections.

The barn was our great playhouse on Sundays. It was clean there,we were where we could be called when wanted, and we liked toclimb the ladders to the top of the haymows, walk the beams tothe granaries, and jump to the hay. One day May came down on asnake that had been brought in with a load. I can hear her yellnow, and it made her so frantic she's been killing them eversince. It was only a harmless little garter snake, but she wasso surprised.

Miss Amelia held her head very much on one side all the time shewalked with Laddie, and she was so birdlike Leon slipped him abrick and told him to have her hold it to keep her down. Seemedas if she might fly any minute. She thought our barn was thenicest she ever had seen and the cleanest. When Laddie openedthe doors on the east side, and she could see the big, red,yellow, and green apples thick as leaves on the trees in theorchard, the lane, the woods pasture, and the meadow withscattering trees, two running springs, and the meeting of thecreeks, she said it was the loveliest sight she ever saw--I meanbeheld. Laddie liked that, so he told her about the beautifultown, and the lake, and the Wabash River, that our creek emptiedinto, and how people came from other states and big cities andstayed all summer to fish, row, swim, and have good times.

She asked him to take her to the meadow, but he excused himself,because he had an engagement. So she stood in the door, andwatched him saddle Flos and start to the house to dress in hisriding clothes. After that she didn't care a thing about themeadow, so we went back.

Our house looked as if we had a party. We were all dressed in ourbest, and every one was out in the yard, garden, or orchard. Peter and Sally were under the big pearmain apple tree at thefoot of the orchard, Shelley and a half dozen beaus wereeverywhere. May had her spelling book in one hand and was in mybig catalpa talking to Billy Stevens, who was going to be herbeau as soon as mother said she was old enough. Father wasreading a wonderful new book to mother and some of theneighbours. Leon was perfectly happy because no one wanted him,so he could tease all of them by saying things they didn't liketo hear. When Laddie came out and mounted, Leon asked him wherehe was going, and Laddie said he hadn't fully decided: he mightride to Elizabeth's, and not come back until Monday morning.

"You think you're pretty slick," said Leon. "But if we could seenorth to the cross road we could watch you turn west, and go pastPryors to show yourself off, or try to find the Princess on theroad walking or riding. I know something I'm saving to tell nexttime you get smart, Mr. Laddie."

Laddie seemed annoyed and no one was quicker to see it than Leon.

Instantly he jumped on the horse block, pulled down his face longas he could, stretched his hands toward Laddie, and making hisvoice all wavery and tremulous, he began reciting from "Lochiel'sWarning," in tones of agonizing pleading:

"Laddie, Laddie, beware of the day! For, dark and despairing, my sight, I may seal, But man cannot cover what God would reveal; 'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before."

That scared me. I begged Leon to tell, but he wouldn't say aword more. He went and talked to Miss Amelia as friendly as youplease, and asked her to take a walk in the orchard and get somepeaches, and she went flying. He got her all she could carry andguided her to Peter and Sally, introduced her to Peter, and thenslipped away and left her. Then he and Sally couldn't talk abouttheir wedding, and Peter couldn't squeeze her hand, and she couldn't fix his tie, and it was awful. Shelley and her boysalmost laughed themselves sick over it, and then she cried, "Tothe rescue!" and started, so they followed. They captured MissAmelia and brought her back, and left her with father and thewonderful book, but I'm sure she liked the orchard better.

I took Grace Greenwood under my arm, Hezekiah on my shoulder, andwith Bobby at my heels went away. I didn't want my hair pulled,or to be teased that day. There was such a hardness around myheart, and such a lump in my throat, that I didn't care whathappened to me one minute, and the next I knew I'd slap any onewho teased me, if I were sent to bed for it. As I went down thelane Peter called to me to come and see him, but I knew exactlyhow he looked, and didn't propose to make up. There was not anysense in Sally clawing me all over, when I only tried to helpmother and Lucy find out what they wanted to know so badly. Iwent down the hill, crossed the creek on the stepping-stones, andfollowed the cowpath into the woods pasture. It ran beside thecreek bank through the spice thicket and blackberry patches,under pawpaw groves, and beneath giant oaks and elms. Just wherethe creek turned at the open pasture, below the church andcemetery, right at the deep bend, stood the biggest white oakfather owned. It was about a tree exactly like this that anEnglishman wrote a beautiful poem in McGuffey's Sixth, thatbegins:

"A song to the oak, the brave old oak, Who hath ruled in the greenwood long; Here's health and renown to his broad green crown, And his fifty arms so strong."

I knew it was the same, because I counted the arms time andagain, and there were exactly fifty. There was a pawpaw andspice hedge around three sides of this one, and water on theother. Wild grapes climbed from the bushes to the lower branchesand trailed back to earth again. Here, I had two secrets Ididn't propose to tell. One was that in the crotch of sometiptop branches the biggest chicken hawks you ever saw had theirnest, and if they took too many chickens father said they'd haveto be frightened a little with a gun. I can't begin to tell howI loved those hawks. They did the one thing I wanted to most,and never could. When I saw them serenely soar above the lowestof the soft fleecy September clouds, I was wild with envy. Iwould have gone without chicken myself rather than have seen oneof those splendid big brown birds dropped from the skies. I wasso careful to shield them, that I selected this for my especialretreat when I wanted most to be alone, and I carefully gatheredup any offal from the nest that might point out their location,and threw it into the water where it ran the swiftest.

I parted the vines and crept where the roots of the big oakstretched like bony fingers over the water, that was slowlyeating under it and baring its roots. I sat on them above thewater and thought. I had decided the day before about my goingto school, and the day before that, and many, many times beforethat, and here I was having to settle it all over again. Doubledon the sak roots, a troubled little soul, I settled it once more.

No books or teachers were needed to tell me about flowing waterand fish, how hawks raised their broods and kept house, about thesoftly cooing doves of the spice thickets, the cuckoos slippingsnakelike in and out of the wild crab-apple bushes, or the brownthrush's weird call from the thorn bush. I knew what they saidand did, but their names, where they came from, where they wentwhen the wind blew and the snow fell--how was I going to find outthat? Worse yet were the flowers, butterflies, and moths; theywere mysteries past learning alone, and while the names I made upfor them were pretty and suitable, I knew in all reason theywouldn't be the same in the books. I had to go, but no one willever know what it cost. When the supper bell rang, I sat still. I'd have to wait until at least two tables had been served,anyway, so I sat there and nursed my misery, looked and listened,and by and by I felt better. I couldn't see or hear a thing thatwas standing still. Father said even the rocks grew larger yearby year. The trees were getting bigger, the birds were busy, andthe creek was in a dreadful hurry to reach the river. It waslike that poetry piece that says:

"When a playful brook, you gambolled,"

(Mostly that gambolled word is said about lambs)

"And the sunshine o'er you smiled, On your banks did children loiter, Looking for the spring flowers wild?"

The creek was more in earnest and working harder at pushingsteadily ahead without ever stopping than anything else; and likethe poetry piece again, it really did "seem to smile upon us asit quickly passed us by." I had to quit playing, and go to worksome time; it made me sorry to think how behind I was, because Ihad not started two years before, when I should. But thatcouldn't be helped now. All there was left was to go this time,for sure. I got up heavily and slowly as an old person, and thenslipped out and ran down the path to the meadow, because I couldhear Leon whistle as he came to bring the cows.

By fast running I could start them home for him: Rose, Brindle,Bess, and Pidy, Sukey and Muley; they had eaten all day, but theystill snatched bites as they went toward the gate. I wanted tosurprise Leon and I did.

"Getting good, ain't you?" he asked. "What do you want?"

"Nothing!" I said. "I just heard you coming and I thought I'dhelp you."

"Where were you?"

"Playing."

"You don't look as if you'd been having much fun."

"I don't expect ever to have any, after I begin school."

"Oh!" said Leon. "It is kind of tough the first day or two, butyou'll soon get over it. You should have behaved yourself, andgone when they started you two years ago."

"Think I don't know it?"

Leon stopped and looked at me sharply.

"I'll help you nights, if you want me to," he offered.

"Can I ever learn?" I asked, almost ready to cry.

"Of course you can," said Leon. "You're smart as the others, Isuppose. The sevens and nines of the multiplication table arethe stickers, but you ought to do them if other girls can. Youneedn't feel bad because you are behind a little to start on; youare just that much better prepared to work, and you can soonovertake them. You know a lot none of the rest of us do, andsome day it will come your turn to show off. Cheer up, you'll beall right."

Men are such a comfort. I pressed closer for more.

"Do you suppose I will?" I asked.

"Of course," said Leon. "Any minute the woods, or birds, orflowers are mentioned your time will come; and all of us willhear you read and help nights. I'd just as soon as not."

That was the most surprising thing. He never offered to help mebefore. He never acted as if he cared what became of me. Maybeit was because Laddie always had taken such good care of me, Leonhad no chance. He seemed willing enough now. I looked at himclosely.

"You'll find out I'll learn things if I try," I boasted. "Andyou will find out I don't tell secrets either."

"I've been waiting for you to pipe up about----"

"Well, I haven't piped, have I?"

"Not yet."

"I am not going to either."

"I almost believe you. A girl you could trust would be a funnything to see."

"Tell me what you know about Laddie, and see if I'm funny."

"You'd telltale sure as life!"

"Well, if you know it, he knows it anyway."

"He doesn't know WHAT I know."

"Well, be careful and don't worry mother. You know how she issince the fever, and father says all of us must think of her. Ifit's anything that would bother her, don't tell before her."

"Say, looky here," said Leon, turning on me sharply, "is all thissudden consideration for mother or are you legging for Laddie?"

"For both," I answered stoutly.

"Mostly for Laddie, just the same. You can't fool me, missy. Iwon't tell you one word."

"You needn't!" I answered, "I don't care!"

"Yes you do," he said. "You'd give anything to find out what Iknow, and then run to Laddie with it, but you can't fool me. I'mtoo smart for you."

"All right," I said. "You go and tell anything on Laddie, andI'll watch you, and first trick I catch you at, I'll do sometelling myself, Smarty."

My feet burned in my new shoes, but most of my body was chillingas I stood beside Miss Amelia on the platform, before the wholeschool, and followed the point of her pencil, while, a letter ata time, I spelled aloud my first sentence. Nothing ever hadhappened to me as bad as that. I was not used to so muchclothing. It was like taking a colt from the woods pasture andputting it into harness for the first time. That lovelySeptember morning I followed Leon and May down the dusty road, myheart sick with dread.

May was so much smaller that I could have picked her up andcarried her. She was a gentle, loving little thing, until someone went too far, and then they got what they deserved, all atonce and right away.

Many of the pupils were waiting before the church. Leon climbedthe steps, made a deep bow, waved toward the school buildingacross the way, and what he intended to say was, "Still sits theschoolhouse by the road," but he was a little excited and the s'sdoubled his tongue, so that we heard: "Shill stits theschoolhouse by the road." We just yelled and I forgot a littleabout myself.

When Miss Amelia came to the door and rang the bell, May musthave remembered something of how her first day felt, for as wereached the steps she waited for me, took me in with her, andfound me a seat. If she had not, I'm quite sure I'd have runaway and fought until they left me in freedom, as I had two yearsbefore. All forenoon I had shivered in my seat, while classeswere arranged, and the elder pupils were started on their work;then Miss Amelia called me to her on the platform and tried tofind out how much schooling I had. I was ashamed that I knew solittle, but there was no sense in her making me spell after apencil, like a baby. I'd never seen the book she picked up. I